by Linda Kage
That might've been the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me.
But seriously, who was that sweet and thoughtful to a complete stranger?
I'd had plenty of guys be nice to me before when they'd wanted to get into my panties, but that was seven months of pregnancy ago. He surely knew there was zero chance of scoring with me now, and why would he even want to score with a pregnant girl? Maybe he was a total creeper.
I guess he could've been acting decent because I was so obviously knocked up. People did smile and hold doors open for me a hell of a lot more now than they had before. Even so, I was overwhelmed with how charming, yet totally suspicious his actions were.
Around us, the conversation continued, but I didn't hear a word of what anyone said. I was too busy caught in a staring contest with Mr. Considerate. He stared right back with a blatant curiosity that made my knees weak.
I had listened to Mason describe his coworkers to Reese when he'd first started. I knew of some guy named Gamble. He was the star football quarterback at the university where both Reese and Mason took classes. And then there was someone called Ten. There was also a Bick, or Rick, or Dick, something like that. He hadn't mentioned a fourth male coworker, though.
The man before me didn't look like quarterback material. I wouldn't have called him scrawny by any means, but he didn't have the usual beefy bulk of an athlete. His muscles seemed wiry, lean, scrappy and street savvy. Yeah, I'm not sure what I meant by 'street-savvy' muscles either, but the term seemed to fit him.
So, he probably wasn't Gamble.
Mason had referred to Ten as squirrelly and loud-mouthed. This guy didn't seem to fit that bill either. He was too laidback and . . . I don't know, friendly and open.
"I think she was lying, too," said the only other woman present besides Reese and me.
"Exactly." Whirling toward her, I sent her a thank you gesture for backing me up. Stuffing nuts into my mouth because Mr. Considerate was still staring as if I was some kind of ghost, and making my stomach churn even more than it already was, I went on. "I mean, hello. She'd have to be nearly as far along as I am, right?" When I glanced at Reese for verification, she nodded. Right. So . . . "Everyone I needed to tell about my baby was told months ago. Why would she wait this long to drop the bomb now?"
Reese turned to Mason, her body vibrating with eager hope. "Eva has a good point. And what about her fiancé? How does she know it's not his?"
Mason merely winced as if he didn't want to get his hopes up. "Maybe it took her a while to find me."
"Yeah, right." Reese snorted. "You know good and well that bitch has known every step you've made since leaving Waterford. She found out everything there was to know about me within a month. There's no way she lost track of you."
"So wait, wait, wait." One of the other bartenders stepped closer, waving his hands. "Lowe, you seriously fucked another woman, maybe even knocked her up, and you," he set his gaze on Reese, "aren't pissed as hell right now?"
Now that guy was definitely Ten, I decided.
"Oh, I'm pissed," Reese told him. "But not at Mason. Besides, this particular . . . event happened before we hooked up." Then she cleared her throat and lowered her face before mumbling, "Technically."
Looking helpless, Mason smoothed his hand over her hair before leaning over the bar to kiss her temple. "I can't believe this is happening. You are the only person I've ever wanted to have babies with. Jesus, Reese . . . " He squeezed his eyes closed and pressed his brow to hers. "Can't we just rewind everything so I can do it right the first time?"
Again, I had to look away. Their misery was just too intense. But when I turned my attention forward, Mr. Considerate caught my gaze. His brown eyes filled with sympathy, and he opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something to soothe me.
Sucked back into the staring game with him, I studied his face some more. He was handsome in an unconventional way. His face wasn't as filled out as most faces. It seemed gaunter as if he had to prowl the streets each night for food. But it worked for him. The hollow dips and lines gave him character, adding to his appeal and making him look even hotter.
All the metal in his face made me miss the hoop nose ring I'd had for a few months. I'd taken it out when I'd gotten shot and had to stay in the hospital. I had only gotten it to piss off dear old Dad, but I'd ended up liking it more than I thought I would.
Without warning, Mr. Considerate popped forward closer to me and rested his elbows on the bar so he could lean over the counter and check out my belly.
"You do have the most adorable baby bump I've ever seen," he murmured, as if answering someone else's observation. His voice stirred something in me that no one had ever awoken before.
I shook my head, wondering why the heck he'd said that, until the other chick responded, "And the other woman's breasts didn't look nearly as swollen as hers."
"I'd say," he shot back, lifting his gaze to meet mine. He didn't check out my tits, but my nipples burned and responded as if he had.
I'd never gotten turned on so easily before. Actually, I wasn't so sure if I'd ever been turned on in the first place. Usually I disappeared into my blank void when I let a guy do me. If I'd ever responded to one of them during our encounters, I was too busy chilling in my numb place to remember or feel it. But I know I'd never tingled from head to toe before just because a man was looking at me.
The foreign sensation freaked me out.
"Who the hell are you, anyway?" I demanded, needing a little more control over my own body than I had.
Chapter 4
EVA
Mr. Considerate didn't seem perturbed by the snap in my voice when I commanded him to tell me his name. He just grinned, and said, "Pick."
Huh? "Pick what? I'm not picking out your name." What the hell?
"No." His smile only spread, reaching up into his eyes and making the beautiful brown orbs twinkle. "That's my name, Tinker Bell. Pick, short for Patrick Jason Ryan. You like?"
Like? This guy totally blew my mind. Why would he care if I liked his cool-ass, unique name?
"Anyway . . . " The woman I still didn't know cleared her throat, gave the two of us a strange glance, and turned back to the group. "She didn't have any of the water retention this girl has in her face."
I gasped and covered my cheeks so hottie boy Pick couldn't see how fat I'd become. Oh my God, how hideous did I look? And why would Reese let me leave the apartment this way? I swung to her for immediate support. "I have water retention?"
"What? No! No, sweetie. Barely any at all."
Oh my God! Barely any at all was so far away from none that she might as well have called me a bloated whale. "So I do then?"
Reese fumbled a moment before sending the other woman a scowl. But as she opened her mouth to calm me, Mason grabbed her arm. His face paled as he stared at something over her shoulder.
I glanced around to find a new person entering the nightclub—in a long tan trench coat.
Oh, hell. My best friend was going to go to jail tonight for murder.
"Anyone have a hatchet handy?" Reese growled, stepping away from the bar to face off with Mrs. Garrison. "Because I'm feeling a compelling need to hack a bitch."
"Dude." Ten bumped his elbow into the fifth bartender who might be Gamble—or not. Hell, I didn't know who was who anymore. "Chick fight. Awesome."
As I reached for Reese to stop her and failed, Mason jumped over the bar, much the same way Pick had hopped over it to fetch me more beer nuts. He had more success at catching Reese than I'd had and curled his arm around her waist, keeping her from attacking.
"I told you not to come back," he snarled at Mrs. Garrison. "And I made it crystal clear before I even left Florida that I never wanted anything to do with you again. Why are you doing this?"
She ignored him, smiling evilly at my girl. "Reese," she murmured, nodding her head in acknowledgement. "It's been too long since I last saw you."
"I know, hasn't it?" Reese answered
with the same fake pleasantry before she sneered. "My hand's stopped ringing from the last time I bitch-slapped the shit out of you."
"Ohh!" Ten cried, smacking his hand on his knee and hooting. "Burn."
Mrs. Garrison narrowed her eyes. "You need to release him, dear. He doesn't belong here."
Everything went incredibly tense then. Mason and Reese ganged up on the rapist, trying to get to her to leave, telling her they didn't believe a word she said. And Mrs. Garrison just oozed evil as she ripped open her coat, revealing a swollen stomach.
"If I'm not pregnant, then how do you explain this?"
"Oh, please." I rolled my eyes and waved my hand at her. "That's the fakest pregnant belly I've ever seen."
When Mrs. Garrison swiveled my way with a scowl, I slid off my stool and pooched out my little girl. "This is the real deal, honey. So why don't you stop picking on Mason and my cousin Reese, crawl back home to Florida, and find someone new to harass. In fact, look up Madeline and Shaw Mercer why don't you? They actually deserve your brand of attention."
Ooh, I would just love to watch the two rapists go head to head. Might actually be a bit of a challenge for my father to chew Mrs. Garrison up and spit her out. Might take him a whole hour to destroy her.
She narrowed her eyes. "I should've guessed you were Reese's snooty little Mercer cousin. Eva, isn't it? The one who tried to trap Alec Worthington into marriage by getting herself knocked up—"
"Okay, that's enough," Reese snapped, and I'm grateful she intervened because just hearing Alec's name made me tense and shut down. But what the hell? Did everyone back home think I got pregnant on purpose to trap him into marriage? Eww. No way on God's green earth had I wanted to settle down with an egotistical ass like Alec Worthington. I wouldn't let that man back into my life now if he came crawling, begging, and offering money for me to forgive him.
While my head still swam, wondering what all my old cronies back in Florida really thought of me now, Reese and Mason and Mrs. Garrison went 'round and 'round some more, until the woman I soon learned was named Dr. Kavanagh pulled a pregnancy test out of her purse and told Mrs. Garrison to supply some physical proof.
Once the rapist finally agreed to pee on the stick, there was some debate over who'd accompany her back to the bathroom to oversee her test taking. When I tried to chime in and say I'd gladly escort the wicked witch—so I could be the first to laugh in her face when all her lies were revealed—Pick whipped out his hand and reached across the bar to grasp my elbow, halting me.
"I don't think so, Tinker Bell. If Lowe doesn't trust his woman alone with that broad, then you sure as hell aren't going near her. Not in your condition."
I blinked at him, startled into silent stupidity. Not in my condition?
Really, just who did this guy think he was to act so proprietary of me, making sure I had clean food and stayed away from evil rapists? No one was ever that nice for no reason at all. Made me wonder what his ulterior motive was. I jerked my elbow from his grip, glaring him down.
Men equaled bastards, and he was most definitely male.
Blinking rapidly, his gaze zipped up to mine. He was obviously startled by my anger. Maybe even a little hurt by it.
I wavered, silently debating whether I actually had the right to be mad at him. Let's see. He'd grabbed me, twice now, and had made decisions for me as if he owned me. Humph, owned me?
No one owned Eva Mercer, so I was going to be ticked at him for trying.
The bastard.
The problem was I wasn't all that bothered. I couldn't think of him as a creeper because everything he'd done had been attentive and protective. Even his staring had been more curious and seeking, as if he were trying to recognize me from somewhere, or he wanted me to recognize him. It certainly hadn't been creepy and leering as if he were visually undressing me. Not that anyone would want to visually undress a pregnant chick with water retention while she was wearing Tinker Bell pajamas. But there were all kinds of weirdos out there. This I knew well.
Frankly, I didn't want to be on anyone's radar as much as I seemed to be on his, so I forced my gaze away from him, even though I was acutely aware of every move he made. Of every breath he took. Of every—God, my reaction to him was so powerful it was irritating.
Only seconds after Mrs. Garrison followed Dr. Kavanagh and who I realized was Gamble down the hall toward the restrooms, she came storming back into the bar area. Without looking at anyone or saying anything, she marched toward the exit and left.
"Oh, going so soon?" Reese taunted after her. "I'm so sorry to hear you're not pregnant after all, you fucking lying bitch!"
The front door slammed, and the nameless bartender hurried after her to lock the doors.
Mason and Reese hugged, murmuring to each other. Relieved this round with the rapist was over, I rubbed my belly, wondering why some people perjured themselves the way Mrs. Garrison just had. I mean, I knew why I'd always lied and pretended and said things I didn't even mean. I had dirty, dark secrets I didn't want anyone to discover. But this . . .
I began to wonder what kind of childhood Mrs. Garrison must've gone through to turn her into such a loose screw. Then I stopped myself because I didn't want to know what made her a raping sociopath. As long as Reese and Mason were done with her for good, I never wanted to think about her again.
Reese dashed down the back hall to thank Dr. Kavanagh for helping her get rid of Mrs. Garrison. When Mason, still looking shaken, slumped forward to cradle his head in his hands and rest his elbows on the bar top, I opened my mouth to ask if he was okay. Then I decided against it, reminding myself we weren't friends.
"So, how far along are you?"
At Pick's question, I jumped. He remained on the other side of the bar, watching me intently.
"Look." I drew in a breath. "I don't know what you're trying to do, but you need to stop."
He opened his mouth, then shut it before shaking his head. "I need to stop what exactly?"
"I just said. I don't know. But cut it out, okay?"
Instead of turning pissy, he grinned. "So, you don't know what I'm doing that's obviously pissing you off, and I certainly don't have a clue, but I definitely need to cut it out?"
I scowled because when he said it like that, he made me sound like a complete idiot. "Okay, fine. You've touched me. Twice now. That's just not cool. Then you told me what I couldn't eat and where I couldn't go like you freaking owned me. Which you definitely don't. And now you're trying to make polite conversation as if we're friends. I don't know you. I've never met you before in my life. We are not friends."
"E.," Mason said, his voice sounding like a dog owner who was commanding his snarling pet to heel. "Leave him alone. He's always protective of women. He's fine."
Oh. I shrank back, guilt seeping into every pore. God, there I went again, automatically assuming every man alive was a bastard. I really needed to cut that out and start giving people the benefit of the doubt. Bad Eva.
"Sorry," I mumbled, ducking my chin and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear because this apologizing business was still so new to me. "I guess if Mason says you're fine, you're fine."
Brows furrowed, Pick opened his mouth to answer me, but Mason snorted out a laugh. "Wow. I cannot believe I just heard those words come out of Eva Mercer's mouth."
I turned to tell him I was at least trying to change, but I got a little distracted by how pale and upset he looked, still slumped against the bar and holding his head. "Are you okay?" I reached for his elbow and drew him to a barstool. "You look like you're going to pass out."
"Yeah, Lowe." Pick grabbed a glass from the back of the bar and filled it with water. "Why don't you sit down?" He slid the water in front of Mason. "Here. Drink something."
Mason sat, but he didn't move to take the glass, so I picked it up and tried to help him . . . to which he sliced me an annoyed glare. "Really?" He snagged the cup from my hand and drank on his own.
Confused by his irritation, I turned to Pick
who winced and shook his head. "Bad move, Tink. Don't emasculate the poor guy by helping him drink."
I lifted my hands. "I was just trying to help."
Amusement flittered across his face. He leaned across the bar to talk in a quieter tone. "I know that. And you know that. But Lowe . . . " He shook his head. "He didn't know that."
He was so close I could make out a small chip in the silver paint on his eyebrow ring. I studied it a moment before my attention wandered to other features. But when I got to the deep, chocolate brown of his eyes, I was surprised to learn how much they were studying me in return.
I cleared my throat. "So, yeah." Shifting away so we weren't quite so close anymore, I glanced toward Mason, but he seemed lost in his own thoughts. "Sorry again for being a complete bitch. I just . . . I haven't met a lot of guys who aren't total bastards. So, I'm pretty much leery of everyone."
"Been burned a couple times, huh?" Sympathy ruled his tone.
My throat grew too dry to answer, so I didn't.
"Well, if this is as bitchy as you get, I'm not scared off. I've definitely met worse."
I snorted, meeting his gaze without meaning to. "I seriously doubt that, but thanks for trying to cheer me up."
"No, really." Grinning, he shook his head. "I'm dead serious. This friend of mine puts on a bitch front constantly." He rolled his eyes. "She was raped a lot when she was young, so she's built up this shitty attitude where she degrades everyone around her. It's become like this security shield she hides behind so no one can see the real her and know how broken she feels."
For a moment, I stared at him, unable to move, or breathe, or react. Sensation left all four of my limbs, as a cold blanket of fear covered me. It was the strangest thing, but I could feel the color drain from my face. I gaped at Pick Ryan, wondering how he'd just described my entire life to a perfect T.
Exposed, unable to hide, and feeling like a frightened rabbit with nowhere to run, my heartbeat fluttered in my chest. I swayed away from him.
And I saw the very moment he realized what he'd done. The smile slid from his lips, and his eyes bulged with shock. "No," he whispered as if absolutely horrified.
